


Real Talking

by Skeren



Category: Naruto
Genre: ANBU - Freeform, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-07
Updated: 2012-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 03:45:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3473228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skeren/pseuds/Skeren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a child admires ANBU, is it really a surprise when they pick up a few things?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Real Talking

When Naruto was little, his options on who to admire had been unfortunately small. That is not to say that he had  no one, as he was an observant child, and any parent can attest that children see and hear many things that they never anticipated that their children would.   
  
Unfortunately for Naruto, his parents were gone, and that meant that those returning observation often changed, leaving him in peace to grow and observe. It also left him to learn to hide, careful and meticulous as those he admired the very most, his masked companions who he only ever saw but who never spoke to him. At least, not at first, and never, not once, out loud in his direction.  
  
That was okay though. He watched, and he learned, and over time he realized that the flicks of fingers had meanings.  
  
It was even better after he turned four and one of them actually directed one of those sharp signals at  _him_ , reminding him to stay out of trouble and to settle down. It was better because it proved that he was right, and that the hand speech really meant the things he thought they did.  
  
Not to say he knew everything, no, but one day, when he was five, he was very bored, and a bored Naruto tended to mean an inventive one. Thus, leaning out his window, where he knew one of his masked watchers would see, he flit through some of those hand signals, the ones he was pretty sure meant he wanted to talk.  
  
He wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t right either, though it still brought down a lady whose mask was like a bunny and she stared at him, silent as she gently pushed him back inside his window so she could perch there.   
  
A staring match commenced then, but when there was no verbal speech and simply more hand fumbling was given from the child, she sighed, reaching forward to carefully form his hands into the position the sign was supposed to use, then gave the moving example with her own hands.  
  
She only stayed long enough to confirm he had it correct before she was gone again, but the blond boy was still giddy to know he’d gotten it right, that it really  _was_  a silent language that his companions used.  
  
He got persistent, after that, trying a new sign every day, and while there wasn’t always an answer, there were enough that after a few months, there was a change in the routine.   
  
The change surprised him, but not in a bad way, as one of his watchers, this one with bright white hair, shook his head at the sign the boy was attempting. Instead of correcting, he simply flit through a series of signs, watching him closely, then clearly waiting for an answer. That was harder.  
  
Talking this way wasn’t something that came naturally to the blond, after all, but he still managed it. Or thought he did. He was fairly sure that the shoulder jerk before the man stilled again and shook his head might have been laughter. The signs the boy had used were repeated back in a questioning way, with a wiggled emphasis on the ones that Naruto had seen, but never actually learned from anyone yet.  
  
The boy was too young to get the implications, but he was old enough to realize he’d possibly overstepped somewhere and helplessly gave a universal signal for apology.  
  
That just got another of those aborted twitches, then the man gave him a sequence back, fixed, like an offering. The boy mimicked that, then grinned, nodding to himself and giving him a thanks. There was a hesitation from the man, then, with utmost care, he pointed at the boy before forming his hands into a specific sign and waiting.  
  
Naruto had never seen it before, but he’d seen that there were several signs that seemed to mean the people behind the masks. Was he being named then?   
  
Hesitantly pointing to himself, then at the hands, he tried to ask that. Enough was gotten across that the man nodded. Then there was another pause before he used one of his first learned questions to ask what it meant.  
  
There was a longer stillness before the answer came, and this time it was slower, ponderous, and Naruto could tell there were memories involved, for his companion to be so emotional in his movements over this. It was kind of humbling he was being offered something so important, even if the only thing he was told was ‘later’.   
  
So, he accepted it, nodding and pointing to himself before making the sign. A moment later, that watcher was gone, but after that, the others started him on longer strings when they came, and he proudly shared his new name with them all, getting a pause from more than a few though none questioned it.  
  
It really  _was_  an important name then.  
  
Sadly, as with many things in his life, this routine went away after he turned six. That is not to say he never saw his watchers, but it seemed that they stopped coming so often, when they came at all, and his inquiries for conversation slowly took longer and longer to get a reply.  
  
By the time he was seven, no one came at all, and he stopped trying to reach out to them from his home, instead luring out his beloved watchers with pranks so that he could talk to them while being chased, knowing they’d come because he was the prank master and that meant that he had to have the best chasing him, right?  
  
Thus, the new trend started, with him yelling only for the populous proper, silent as he caught up with his friends, though he was never told  _their_ names, and that was fine, because they were  _supposed_  to be secrets, and he was very good with secrets. He never talked to them where other ninja would notice either, because that would give away the game.  
  
It was years then, while this routine settled and he stepped fully up to plate behind  _his_  chosen mask. To honor his childhood watchers was simple. Make a mask, make it convincing, and no one will ever read you. For him, the beautiful face masks were simply not an option, and people always became jittery when he was silent.  
  
So his learning to hide meant that he was loud when he wasn’t attempting stealth, he was brash when he knew it wouldn’t have terrible backlash on him. He was lazy and unobservant so that when he noticed things no one could tell.  
  
It meant that by the time he was twelve, he had everyone convinced in his age group that he never learned anything, but it also meant that he had an advantage, and a chance to really _learn_  once out of school, because it meant that he hid that he was good at that, just like he’d hidden that he was good with talking. Real talking, as he liked to think of it.   
  
They’d had Kakashi as their team leader for a week before he managed to find a time when the other two weren’t around while he was, and he only asked one simple thing, hands moving slowly and carefully once he was sure the man was looking. ‘Is it later?’  
  
The answer was out loud, simply a murmur. “It was my best friend’s sign.”  
  
Then, that said, he pointed to himself and made the sign for his own name, cocking his head to the side with one of his ridiculous eye smiles.  
  
Laughing, Naruto did the only thing he  _could_  do. He spoke aloud as well. “Pleased to meet you.”  
  
Grey eye cracking open to check his sincerity, Kakashi nodded, then turned, giving lazy wave as he strode away and tossing out a simple flick of his fingers. ‘Tomorrow.’  
  
After that, Naruto went home, but he never worried again that he wouldn’t have someone to talk to. After all, now he had his team. He just needed to figure out how to teach the other two how to talk as well, that was all.   
  
But, he had time, so he wasn’t worried about it.   
  
There was always tomorrow.


End file.
